


Counting Stars (or the most cliche love story ever)

by haphazardweirdo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Beating, Childhood Trauma, Drunk John Winchester, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, I Don't Even Know, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence, teenfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2783609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haphazardweirdo/pseuds/haphazardweirdo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school! AU where Sam lives with John in Lawrence, and Dean is the new kid at school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hmmm.. haha.  
> This is something I cooked together during my mid-term tests, written in roughly three hours. My first work in this fandom, and my first fic on AO3. Idek what I was thinking okay. This idea just got stuck in my head and just wouldn't go away until I put it down in words. Enjoy!
> 
> It would mean a lot to me if you if you left me some comments or kudos:)

Sam laid absolutely still under his blanket.  
He could hear his father wander around down on the first floor of their small house, most likely hunting for more alcohol.  
He most likely wasn't going to find anything, and he would most likely end up going down to the liquor store(Sam was suprised that they hadn't banned him from the place yet) to get more.  
If he had any money, that is.  
Sam had started hiding the money from his crappy part time jobs when he was thirteen and started to understand what his father spent them on.  
Ever since Sam's mother died in Sam's nursery when he was only two years old, John had been a drunk. It was like he was trying desperatly to drown all his sorrows in the stinging warmth of whiskey.  
John never talked about her, and if Sam asked, it almost always resulted in a sharp slap, then Sam had to keep up with his father's sulking for the rest of the night. Sam had stopped asking.

His father always got sad when he was wasted. When he got sad, he suddenly, without warning, got angry with everyone and everything nearby. Since they lived by themselves, just the two, Sam was almost exclusivly the only one around.

He'd often wondered, "why him?", and he was always with the same answer. Sam honestly didn't know. Well, partially true. He knew that John blamed him for his mothers death, and at some point Sam had started to think that to. It ate him up, slowly, and the beating and screaming didn't exactley make it any easier to deny it.

His teachers had asked him about it, but he always found some smart excuse for his split lip, swollen cheeks or bruises. Said he'd fallen of his bike, exused himself for being so clumsy. He didn't believe for one second that they actually believed him, not even when he brought out the puppy eyes, but at least they didn't say anything more about it after they were finished with the mandatory rounds of sceptical looks and questions that always followed.

In school he didn't have all that many friends, no one he was really close to. People just seemed to talk to him when they had to, when they had project work in class or when they needed help with their homework.  
After all, Sam was the best in his class.  
He'd always gotten only A's and B's, and lately he had started to take som pre-college courses besides school. His dreams of college was probably part of the reason he had survived high school up until now, already half way through his junior fall semester.  
When he graduated, he wanted to study law at the prestigious Stanford University, but he knew that that possibility had for sure slipped out of his reach a long time ago, what with the way his father was drinking up their lives, turning the bottle upside down just to catch every single drop of hope that was left for them.  
They probably would've kicked him out soon enough, Sam thought, when they found out what kind of sick freak he was. Sam had always been that weird guy who no one really knew or even less cared about, and he didn't really expect college to be any different.

Sam had had friends over for dinner when he was still in elementary school, and his father had been continously suspiscious about letting strangers into their house. Somehow Sam had managed to convince him, but John wasn't very happy about it, because it meant he had to sober up enough to make them a proper dinner instead of buying some crap food from the grease-pit down the road.  
It had actually worked out better than Sam had hoped, for some time. Then one time, in forth grade, when he'd had Jeremy from his class over, he had seen a picture of Sam's mom, and curious and blue-eyed as he was, he'd asked Sam's father about it in a loud, clear voice. That had been the drop for John Winchester, and he'd yelled at the kid that it was none of his fucking business, before he'd thrown the boy and his toy plane out the front door, crying his eyes out, and he didn't open it again that day.  
Not soon after Sam ended up with a new bruise, this one in a new place, nearly green where it discoloured the skin across his right cheekbone. In school noone had dared to talk to Sam for two weeks, and even some of the teachers had sent some pretty nasty glances his way.

 

People always thought he was some sort of crazy; some were even scared of him. Of course they'd never said anything like that to his face, but he knew. All the years of loneliness had made him an excellent observer of human (especially teenager's) behavior. He saw it in their eyes when he walked past them in the hallways, or when someone accidentally bumped into him, before hurridly pulling back with an expression they thought he didn't see as they turned to whisper frentically to their friends.  
it didn't make him angry, the way they behaved around them, he knew that it was mostly his own fault. He just got a bit sad, and in his mind he whispered apologies over and over, like they would hear his thoughts if he tried hard enough. He just wanted to say he was sorry, but he couldn't.

He just didn't want them to have to talk to him, when he could see that they clearly didn't want to.

~~~

Sam could hear the soft sound of John dragging his feet up the stairs to the room next to his own. He waited until he could hear the creek of bedsprings in the other room before he decided it was okay to drift of into dreamland.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 17/12-14
> 
> Apologies for that bad summary and the note at the beginning. I just sort of posted this in the middle of the night, and my brain didn't work properly.  
> I even forgot the disclaimers, but I think you guys get the deal anyway.  
> Oh... and crappy summary probably.  
> As previously mentioned, constructive critiscism is appreciated.  
> Thanks for reading!  
> I'll try to update this at least once a week, if not more often.
> 
> Sincerely, your author
> 
> Anni-chan


	2. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not updating earlier... I was hit by the back-to-school bus, besides the fact that I'm genuinly lazy. I will from now update this fic more when I feel like it/have time to write, so I beg you to be pacient with me. Oh, also, the chapters are gonna be pretty short, but I'll try to make up for that by writing many,
> 
> Constructive critisism is always appreciated:)
> 
> Anni-chan, your author

When Sam came to school the next day, he instantly noticed something was of. The casual buzzing and noise usually acompanied with a building full of teenagers was suspisciously absent. Instead the hallways of the high school where filled with the sharper sound of whispering. He decided for himself that he'd just ignore the huge crowd of students, for now at least, until he knew what was going on. As Sam got to his locker, he got of his jacket and discarded in there, before he slipped his advanced chemistry books under one arm.  
As he was fiddling with the lock, he could hear the whispering behind his back intensify, before it went completely silent.  
Sam turned around, but the crowd in the hallway blocked his view. He noticed some girls in his class stretching their necks to see, before clinging together with their friends whispering, some even blushing. The guys didn't look to happy, and they shot the group of girls a frustrated glance before they turned their heads back to watch the something or someone that was still out of Sam's sight.  
Not seeing anything wasn't a ususal problem for Sam, (after his puberty growth spurt had sent him up to an impressive 6'4¨ so fast he could nearly feel the air getting thinner), but there was apparently something so important going on that everyone seemed willing to climb over eachother to be a part of. Obviously, they didn't because they were, after all, sivilized human beings.  
There were still (as earlier described) to many people blocking his line of sight to actually see anything, so Sam just waited for whatever the heck this was to move his way down the hallway.  
Soon enough the crowd started parting like the sea before Moses, and towards sam came walking...

A totally normal student.

He was wearing an old, well used leather jacket over a casual black t-shirt, and he carried a faded duffel loosely slung over his shoulder. Sam really didn't get what was so spescial about this guy, he wasn't all that significant(no visible tatoos, face piercings or other creepy body stuff), so he looked kinda normal to Sam. Maybe 'couple of inches taller than the average, nothing more.  
He ignored the staring and idiotic mouths-hanging-open, just headed towards Sam, and when they were just feet away, Sam got to take a better look on the stranger's face.  
Oh.  
Oh.  
His brain stopped working for a second, because wow.  
The man, the boy, Sam didn't even know what to call him, was pretty. Like, very pretty. The guy,(Sam would leave that one unresolved until a more fitting term was defined) had pouty pink lips, long eyelashes and the greenest eyes Sam had seen. His high cheekbones were dusted with golden freckles, and all of this combined made him look sort of... feminine (in a good way). Sam just stood there, baffled, until he realised the guy was probably going to say something, so he snapped his jaw shut and tried to focus.

"Ah...hey." Well that wasn't awkward at all.

"Hi." The guy said and stopped mere feet away, and looked expectingly at Sam. "Uh...aren't you supposed to show me the school or something?"  
Sam really hadn't contemplated what he would do if the guy actually decided that he was worth his time, and again he just stood there, his head screaming at his body to do something with the weird silence that had fallen over the hallway. Everyone just stood like statues, staring at them. No, Sam thought, looking at the guy, interacting voluntarily with that freaky junior. 

"Well... I guess I could do that, yeah. Yeah okay. I'm Sam by the way." He automatically extended his hand for the guy to shake it. The thought struck him too late that this was probably not the most normal way to greet someone in high school, and he regretted it, but the guy simply took it and grinned at him as they stupidly stood there in the middle of a highschool, in the middle of a town in the middle of nowhere, and they were freaking shaking hands.  
"Cool. I'm Dean."


End file.
